Sight
by redwhistle
Summary: 5 wakes up one morning and sees the sun for the first time in ages.  Before long, he finds himself seeing other things, too.  It's a good day for him.  Mostly.  5x6, mild fluff.


This fic was written for the annual Secret Santa exchange on the 9 Forum. It was meant to be something a bit more simple (and probably more appropriate for a gift), but it was one of those things that started getting away from me as I was writing. Actually, now that I think about it, they pretty much all do that. :P

Anyway. 5x6, mild fluff involved. Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>Sight<em>

**·**

**·**

_A pair of drawings laid out on the table, side by side. Swirling patterns, thick cutting lines, strange symbols: near-identical riots of stark black ink._

_"Here. And here."_

_A tiny symbol on one that wasn't on the other. More symbols with their places switched around. The change in angle of a line. 5 watched as 2 dipped his pen and marked them, notating every subtle difference in glistening red._

_"What does it mean?"_

_The question wasn't directed to 5, of course, for which he was grateful. Sighing, he flipped through a stack of similar drawings that had been placed off to the side. 6 had barely looked up when he'd come to take them. "You'd think he'd get bored after a while, drawing the same thing over and over again."_

_"I don't think it's a question of boredom," said 2. "It seems more like... well, like he _needs_ to do it, wouldn't you say?"_

_"I guess," said 5, and tried not to think about what it might be like if 6 needed other things every once in a while, too._

_"Besides, he has drawn other things. That's what started all of this, if you'll recall."_

_5 recalled. He still thought 2 was reading too much into it – but he recalled._

_"Whatever this thing is, it's out there," said 2. "Somewhere. It must be. Just like the beast. He saw that without seeing it, and he sees this other thing, too."_

_"But what if he _did_ see the beast?" said 5. "Maybe he did, and we just don't know it."_

_"Perhaps. I won't say it isn't possible. But I have a feeling about this. He's seeing something, something important... he's trying to tell us about it, and this is the only way he knows how."_

_"But how is that possible? How can you see something without looking at it?"_

_"That," said 2, "is a very good question."_

**·**

**·**

5 knew it was going to be a good day the second he opened his eye.

He couldn't have told you why, at least not right away. He was still in that transition between sleep and wakefulness, the one where you can feel and hear and see but can't yet think; where you're not quite sure where you are or how you got there or what you had just been doing, but where you still somehow know what kind of day it's going to be.

What tipped him off was the light coming from beneath his curtain.

5 sat up, blinking, slowly coming to. The instant he realized what was different, the second he remembered where he was and when it was and the small miracle that was taking place just outside that curtain, he shot out of bed without even throwing off his blankets first. This might have saved him a few precious seconds, too, except that he ended up getting his feet all tangled up, and, after a few moments of struggle, the rest of him as well. Fortunately, a few little blankets were hardly enough to deter a fellow as hardy and resourceful as 5, and it couldn't have taken him longer than two or three minutes to free himself, pick himself up off the floor, hurl himself bodily through the curtain, trip, and end up on the floor again. He was just that good.

If 5 had been in any kind of pain, it was instantly forgotten as he rolled over onto his back and gazed up around the main hall of the ruined cathedral. It was so _bright_. The sky, visible through the caved-in portion of the roof, was a shade of blue he hadn't seen in months, or maybe years. The stained glass windows seemed to glow. Even the _dust_ was transformed, sparkling in the beams slanting down from every crack and crevice, seeming to take the very form and shape of light itself.

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he had slept straight through to summer. How could this be, here in the deepest stretch of winter darkness, the time of year when you could barely tell noon from sunset, when you could wake up and sometimes not even be sure if it was day or night?

Then he thought to himself that, even if it were possible to sleep through an entire season, there'd have been no way he'd have been left in peace all that time. In fact, he was surprised he had managed to sleep this late in the morning without 8 barging in to roust him for the watch, or 2 shaking him by his shoulders, telling him he had been calling out in his sleep again. Apparently the same rare good fortune that had brought a sunny day in winter was enough to grant him a moment's respite. If stranger things had happened, then 5 couldn't immediately recall them.

In 5's world, however, such things were never made to last. Panic began to set in as he realized how late he was for his post. Granted, 8 hadn't been round yet, either, but he knew better than to count on that as a good enough excuse. Still, late as he was, he simply couldn't let a day like this go by without sharing it. As quickly as he could, he headed off a little way down the hall to where 2 slept.

But 2 wasn't there. Nor was he in the workshop or anywhere else on the lower floor. This was rather strange, but 5 simply told himself that 2 must have gotten an early start that morning and was up in the tower enjoying the day, or maybe even smoothing things over with 1. He found himself hoping for that second one. All this tension lately was just too much for him, as much as 2 assured him that everything was fine. 2 was always assuring him that things were fine. Which was fine, because even when everything clearly _wasn't_ fine they were still much finer than they would have been without someone telling him that they were fine.

Or so 5 liked to believe.

2's absence aside, 5's luck that morning was continuing to hold; as he made his way over to the bucket lift, he realized that he really hadn't been the only one sleeping late, or at least, not the only one taking their time getting to work. 8 was just starting on his way down, and 5 got over to the ropes in plenty of time to pretend he had been standing there all along as 8 brought the lift down with a clang. "Can you believe it?" 5 said to him, unable to contain himself. "Isn't this the most beautiful morning you've ever seen?" 8 guffawed and, in his own very special way, let 5 know just how much he agreed. 5 was still rubbing his shoulder when the lift came to a stop up in the clock tower.

It was even brighter up here. Sunlight beamed through the window of the clock face, spreading its glow to every corner of the platform, casting a ring of Roman numerals in shadow on the wooden floor. In the very center of this ring stood 1, his back to 5, staring out at the sky as if lost in thought. 5 opened his mouth to call out a greeting, but then decided he was still recovering from the last one.

He looked around. 2 didn't seem to be up here either, unless he was back inside the wall with 6. It was worth a look. For more reasons than one.

As he started over toward 6's alcove, the sharp thwack of 1's staff sounded against the floorboards. 5 flinched, even though he should have been expecting it. "Where are you going?" 1 asked, without turning around.

If there was one thing 5 had, it was a strong sense of self-preservation, and something told him not to ask about 2 at that particular moment. You would think that a day like this would find 1 in a better mood. "I... just... to talk to 6," he stammered.

"Well, make it quick. You're wasting good light."

5 took that to mean that 2 wasn't up in the watchtower either.

He picked up his pace a bit, heading around to the hollowed-out alcove in the wall. It was usually pretty dark in there, but not this morning. 6 was on his knees inside, doing something with his hands, a little furrow of concentration on his brow. More to the point, he was alone. On any other morning 5 would have been pleased about this, but he was starting to get a little worried. He told himself that he was just being silly. He was sure 2 was fine, just off somewhere in the recesses of the building, making some sort of discovery, or simply lost in contemplation. Both had been known to happen.

Still, there was always the chance that 6 had seen him. 5 decided that it couldn't hurt to ask.

As 5 drew closer, he saw that what 6 was doing was wiping his fingers with a piece of cloth. He must have been at it for a while; there was barely any ink on it, and a small pile of other cloths next to him in varying degrees of blackness. Before 5 could begin to think about the implications of this, 6 looked up at him, and smiled.

And 5... completely forgot what he was going to say.

It wasn't like 6 never smiled. Of course he did. Vague smiles. Faraway smiles. Private smiles. But 5 couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like _that._ Like he was – well, like he was happy to see someone. _Really_ happy. 5 looked around, thinking that maybe 2 had snuck up behind him or the twins had come back from the dead, but no. He was the only one standing there.

"Uh..." 5 began. 6 was still smiling, looking at him expectantly. 2. He was supposed to ask about 2. But what came out of his mouth was, "Do you want to come up to the watchtower with me? It's a beautiful day." As soon as the words were out, 5 smacked himself mentally. What was he thinking? Why on earth would 6 want to come with him?

6 dropped the cloth he was holding and jumped up to his feet, nodding happily. 5 blinked, not sure what to make of this unexpected turn. A little flutter started up in his chest, which he quickly berated himself for, because he was sure 6's enthusiasm didn't have as much to do with him as it did with that sun out there. After all, who _wouldn't_ want to see it? 6 may have seemed quite happy to spend most of his time in a dark little alcove, but a beautiful day was a beautiful day.

As 5 explained this to himself in as stern an inner voice as he could muster, he was suddenly interrupted by a much sterner one coming from outside his head. It was 1, telling him to get a move on. Another flutter started up in his chest, somewhat less pleasant than the last one. What was 1 going to think of this?

He peeked his head out from the wall. 1 was still standing in the same spot, staring out the window. Maybe he wouldn't notice?

5 lied to himself a lot. He found it generally made things easier to deal with.

Well, they still weren't doing anything wrong, he insisted to himself. They were just going to... well, he wasn't sure what they were going to do. Keep watch, he supposed. That was okay, right? Another pair of eyes should be helpful, shouldn't it?

Several moments of gutless dithering later, 5 felt a gentle tug on his arm. 6 was looking up at him, clearly wondering what they were waiting for. "I wish I knew," said 5, even though 6 hadn't actually said anything.

1 didn't say anything at first as they approached. He certainly did notice, though, raising an eyebrow at them, and of course 5 found himself hastening to make excuses. "He's, uh, going to help me. With the map." The map he had finished years ago. 5 groaned inwardly. Not exactly a master of stealth and subterfuge, was he?

"Oh?" 1's other eyebrow went up to join the first.

"And... and, uh... to help me keep watch. You know. Because it's so bright out there and all." Okay, that one was even worse. Even _he_ had no idea what he was talking about.

1 drew himself up, clearly getting ready to send 6 back to his room and to tell 5 to stop being foolish and start taking the watch more seriously before he ended up getting them all killed (a speech which 5 could recite verbatim), when something in his bearing seemed to change. He met 5's eyes for just a moment, and, though his expression was mild, even pleasant, 5 found himself taking a step back.

"Very well," said 1. "Off you go."

5 had no idea what had just happened, but decided not to push his luck any further and practically ran the rest of the way, pulling 6 after him.

Even on the worst days, the watchtower was one of 5's favorite places. (Not that he had many to choose from, but you had to take what you could get.) And on days like this, when the sky was clear blue from horizon to horizon, when the muddy haze that normally obscured everything was lifted and the air was crisp and cool, it was absolutely breathtaking. He stepped out from beneath the canvas awning and over to the railing, leaning into the gentle warmth of the winter sun.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" 5 said after a while, as much to himself as to 6. "Where did it come from, all of a sudden?"

6 had been gazing off into the distance, gripping the key around his neck, but turned back to 5 when he spoke. And smiled again.

5 smiled, too, even if it was all a little surreal. The sun and 6. Two things he'd have never put together in his mind, though he supposed they had some things in common. For one thing, they both proved far more elusive than he'd have liked. For another, he didn't seem to understand the first thing about either of them.

He lost track of how long they stood there, just looking at each other, until 6's gaze shifted to something past his shoulder. "Oh," 5 said, turning around. "The map? What about it?"

The map was clipped to a large wooden easel beneath the awning. 6 walked slowly over to it, tilting his head as if some great curiosity were on display. When he reached it, he paused a moment, then, with great care, brought a hand up and traced along the various drawings and features, finally coming to rest on the cathedral pictured at the center. His fingers were clean and left no marks.

A prickle went up the back of 5's neck. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because no one besides 2 ever examined his work so closely. Was this what it was like for 6 when they studied _his_ drawings?

"It's just the map, 6. You've seen it before, haven't you?"

Come to think of it, when _had_ 6 last been up here? 5 remembered him helping when they had first set up the place, bringing up some of the material they had used for construction, but that couldn't have been the last time...

"I'm sorry, I could have sworn I – this is a map I made of the area. See? We're right here, at the center." He pointed to the small drawing of the cathedral. "And these are some of the other places you can see from here – like this one, this is that big building across the square. The one with the statues, remember? We passed it when we first came here."

6 traced along the short path between the two buildings. "You can see," he murmured.

5 blinked. "Well, sure. When it's clear enough. Actually, you don't even need the spyglass for most of them, but it does give you a much better view."

6 turned to him, frowning.

"The spyglass," 5 repeated, gesturing to the instrument up on its pedestal. Its brass fittings, though weathered, still gleamed in the sun. "Right there. Don't you... have you really never seen any of this?"

Apparently it had been a _very_ long time since 6 had been up there.

"It's – well, why don't I just show you?" He climbed up onto the pedestal and offered 6 a hand, not really expecting him to take it. But to his surprise, 6 not only took it, but made no attempt to let go of it after he had climbed up. He just stood there, looking perfectly at ease, as if holding hands with 5 were something he did every day. Which it most decidedly was not.

5 thought back to earlier when he had been lying on the floor, wondering if he was dreaming. He realized he'd never really tested that theory.

In the end, he found himself gently extricating himself from 6, stammering something about needing both hands, and turning his attention the spyglass. He probably needn't have bothered, since he spent the entire time thinking of excuses to hold 6's hand again, telling himself that he should absolutely not be thinking of excuses to hold 6's hand again, and wondering if that really was disappointment he saw on 6's face or if it was just wishful thinking.

"Okay, here," 5 said, once he had managed to both point the telescope down at the building and bring it into focus, which had taken about ten times longer than it should have. "Take a look." He stepped aside and indicated the eyepiece.

What he had failed to remember was that 6 was almost a full head shorter than he was. In what should have been a completely predictable fashion, 6 grabbed the barrel with both hands and pulled the eyepiece down so it was level with his chin; this had the equally predictable effect of tilting the opposite end up toward the sky, which, bright and lovely as it was, could be seen just fine on its own.

"Sorry," said 5, biting down on a smile. "I meant to tell you, you have to keep it steady. Here, hold on a second."

Over by the board that held the map, there was a small block of wood that 2 sometimes stood on to give himself a boost. 5 did not go and get this block of wood. He thought about it, but during the time it took to readjust the telescope, he had a little argument with himself and lost. Or won, depending on how you looked at it.

Warmth crept into 5's face as he held the spyglass with one hand and motioned to 6 with the other. "I can help you," he said. "If that's – if that's okay."

6 apparently thought it was okay. He smiled up at 5 much as he had done earlier, when 5 had first come to see him, only now 5's arm was around him and their faces were an inch apart and 5 decided that he had definitely won.

Of course, he still told himself that he was only being helpful, that it would have been too hard for 6 to stand on his toes and hold the barrel steady at the same time. When 6 wobbled a bit, he told himself that he was only tightening his hold to help 6 regain his balance. And, as 6 peered into the eyepiece and gave a soft little gasp, he told himself that he really shouldn't let go because, distracted by the view, 6 was apt to lose his balance again, and what kind of friend would he be if he let _that_ happen?

As the moments passed, and 5 stood there with his arm around 6, and 6 stood there staring and staring into the lens, 5 began to wonder what was so fascinating. Not that he was complaining, mind you, but he had only really expected 6 to take a glance, nod politely, and then move on to something else. He tried asking, but 6 didn't answer, still gazing so intently into the glass that he seemed as if he were trying to commit the view to memory.

Just as 5 began to feel his arms getting tired (though still not quite ready to complain), 6 suddenly gave a start, as if awakening from a trance, and broke away, hopping down off the platform and over to the map. At first 5 was hit with sudden panic, sure that he had overstepped his bounds – but then he heard 6 laughing, saw him tracing once again over the sketch of the building he had just looked at so closely, then moving on to other features of the map, one after another, much as he had done before.

"Again," said 6, turning to him.

5 was so relieved that 6 wasn't upset with him that at first he didn't realize what was going on. It was only after several passes back and forth, from the map to the pedestal and back again, of 6 studying his drawings and notations with endless fascination before rushing to find their counterparts through the glass, that he understood.

It was the connection. The connection between the drawings and the things they represented.

In 5's mind, something clicked.

"6," 5 said, tapping him on the arm. "6." 6 made no indication that he had heard. After a few more tries, 5 took him by the shoulders and moved him gently away from the lens. He quivered a bit in 5's grasp. "6, look at me."

That seemed to get his attention. He stilled, looking 5 right in the eye.

"6," 5 went on, struggling to keep his voice level, "That thing that you always draw, can you see it? Like you see my drawings through the spyglass?"

A look came over 6's face like that of a window opening. He nodded, clutching at 5's front.

"How?"

The window snapped shut.

"Okay, okay," 5 said, stooping a little and trying to recapture 6's gaze. "You don't know how. That's fine. Do you know where?"

6 paused. "Go back," he whispered.

"Right, right, go back. Where? Show me where. There's the spyglass. Point me."

The weathered brass creaked as it moved up and down, as it rotated on its mount. It didn't take long. 6 stepped away from the eyepiece, clutching his key in both hands as he did.

What 5 saw surprised him. It was that house, the one with the blown-out lower floors, the one that seemed to defy all the physical laws of nature by remaining upright. "That's it?" he said, taking his eye from the lens. "The source is in there?"

6 nodded again. He had the distinct look of someone who had just set down a heavy burden.

Meanwhile, 5 had the distinct feeling of someone who'd just picked one up.

Could this really be it? Could this really be what 6 was trying to say all this time? Could 2 have been right all along?

5 suddenly realized that, so preoccupied with 6, he had gone the better part of the morning without thinking of 2. A very small part of him wondered if that might have been 1's intention all along, but he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had formed. It didn't matter, anyway. 2 would show up soon enough, and then he'd figure out what to do. Preferably something that didn't involve traipsing across the ruins, incurring 1's wrath, or both. He hoped.

"Look, I... I don't know what to make of all this yet," said 5, "but maybe 2 will. And if he doesn't, he'll figure it out, I know it. And I'm sorry. I didn't... I should have..." _Should have what? Taken him seriously? Tried as hard as 2 had been trying all this time? Not given up on him, just because he couldn't give you what you wanted?_

He couldn't begin to say. So instead he said: "We'll figure it out. Until then, we can at least keep an eye on the place."

This must have been the right thing to say, because 6 was smiling at him again, and the next thing 5 knew, he felt something brush against the left side of his face, just below the patch that covered it.

His cheeks grew hot again. He stood very still. They were standing so close together that he hadn't seen 6's hand come up – just one of the things that came of having such a limited field of vision.

6 was touching his face.

For some reason he found himself thinking of earlier that morning, of coming upon 6 kneeling in his alcove, carefully wiping his fingers. It reminded him of a thought he'd had many years ago, when they had just begun to make the cathedral their home, when he had first noticed how reluctant 6 was to touch the rest of them. He had wondered to himself, not entirely seriously, whether 6 was just afraid of getting ink on people.

It was a ridiculous thought, but when it came to 6, those were often all he had to go on. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a lens that could bring 6 into focus, but he supposed there were some territories that weren't meant to be mapped. A wide stretch of uncharted land, no doubt filled with all sorts of wonders, and all he could do was mark it: _here be dragons_.

5 smiled, as much at 6 as at himself. As long as he was entertaining ridiculous thoughts, he figured he might as well put one of them into action. Slowly, so as not to startle him, 5 brought his hands up and gently cupped 6's face. He watched for any sign that this was unwelcome, and when he didn't find any, he bent and pressed his lips to 6's forehead.

He heard the soft click of 6's eyes closing. Several moments passed, in which he found himself free of all thoughts, ridiculous or otherwise. Then, to his great surprise, he found 6 wrapping his arms around his middle, and, with a sigh, burying his head against his chest.

5 was normally the last person who would ever use the phrase, "nothing ventured, nothing gained," but you couldn't argue with success.

**·**

**·**

He couldn't remember the last time a watch had passed so quickly.

It would all be okay, 5 told himself, as they stood by the railing, looking out into the western sky. 2 would reappear from wherever he had gotten off to, he would tell him what he had found out, and together they would try to figure out what it meant. He turned his head and glanced over toward the area where the house stood, untroubled by little things like logic and reason. He wished he himself could say the same. Still, he promised himself that he would keep an extra close eye around there on his watch the next morning. It couldn't hurt.

6 was looking over at the house, too. He looked sad. 5 put an arm around him and smiled. "Don't worry," he assured him. "Everything will be fine." After all, it worked when 2 did it.

"I'm glad you came up here today," he went on, which was far more truthful. They would have to do it again sometime soon – not too soon, maybe, considering what 1 might say – but soon.

Some of the clouds had rolled back in, but the air remained clear and cool, and the sky was filled with the pinks and reds and yellows of the approaching sunset. 5 thought to himself that, despite his growing concern for 2, and 1, and 6, and for himself, it was the closest he had ever come to a perfect day.

You had to take what you could get.


End file.
